


A Higher Purpose

by LessAttitudeMoreAltitude



Series: 2018 Whumptober [9]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: A New Dawn, Angst, Feels, Jedi Knight, Oneshot, Self-Sacrifice, The Last Padawan, Whumptober, veeeery slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 11:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16474322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LessAttitudeMoreAltitude/pseuds/LessAttitudeMoreAltitude
Summary: "There will be loss - inevitable loss, painful loss. But that must not prevent the true Jedi from taking risks… From surrendering oneself to a higher purpose." - Depa BillabaInstead of his master's sacrifice, Caleb foresees his own.





	A Higher Purpose

Caleb’s eyes widened as he saw his master’s robes burning. “Master, your robes…!”

She calmly tore them off. “Sacrificed for the greater good.”

Caleb smiled. Gods, his master was so _cool_. “Well, as sacrifices go…”

“Indeed.” Master Billaba looked pensive as they walked through the wreckage of their most recent battle. “But remember, Padawan: not all sacrifice is as easy to dismiss.”

Well, that seemed obvious. “I understand,” Caleb replied.

“Do you?” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “There will be loss - inevitable loss, _painful_ loss. But that must not prevent the true Jedi from taking risks… From surrendering oneself to a higher purpose.”

Then, for one brief instant, Caleb felt the Force swell in him. The world fell away, and he could feel an intense heat, like he was standing on the edge of a great inferno. He looked up and saw an airship maybe ten meters away from him. There were two figures at the ship’s edge: a green Twi’lek woman and a young human man with the bluest eyes Caleb had ever seen. Both of them were gazing at him with a mixture of denial and grief.

It was a flash. An image. A moment.

And then it was gone. Caleb frowned, trying to make sense of what he had just seen. “I don’t… I don’t understand…”

Master Billaba squeezed his shoulder. “And yet I’m confident, child, that someday you will.”

* * *

The moment easily disappeared to the furthest depths of Caleb’s mind as the years passed. It was wholly insignificant in the wake of the Jedi massacre. As he transformed from Caleb Dume to Kanan Jarrus, all that mattered was survival. Avoid detection: his last order.

The years rolled by, and Kanan lost himself in a haze of dingy jobs, booze, sex, and bar fights. It was fun. At times. But he always had to get moving. Make no attachments. It was sort of ironic. The Jedi Order was gone, but in a way, he was felt like he was living true to the Jedi Code.

Then something changed seven years after Order Sixty-Six. All because of a chance encounter on a back alley of Gorse.

After the scuffle with the Sarlacc gang, the green Twi’lek he had been fighting alongside was nowhere to be seen. Rubbing his bruised cheek, Kanan searched the wreckage for his blaster. By the time he found it, he spotted the Twi’lek’s cloak nearby, pinned beneath a heavy girder. _She did leave me a souvenir after all._ With great effort, he pulled the metal aside. He took the garment into his hands and held it up. It was a good find, he thought, as he turned to stagger out of the alley. Because he was beginning to believe she had never been there.

He stopped thinking that when he stepped out into the street - and found himself looking into her eyes.

An image of emerald eyes flashed across Kanan's foremind, except _those_ eyes were filled with grief, accompanying a twisted expression of pain.

Before he could process it, the woman saw the cloak in Kanan’s hand. “Ah,” she said.

“Ah,” he repeated. Kanan stood frozen, studying her under the bright light of the moon. She was shorter than he was, with deep green skin, full lips, and a chin that came to a pleasing point. She wore a grey pilot’s cap that allowed exit for two head-tails that hung a little more than shoulder-length. She wore a brown vest, gold colored slacks with utility pockets, and black gloves that matched the cloak in his hands.

Kanan relaxed slightly, shoving the image from before out of his mind. He had no idea where it had come from, but he was certain it was irrelevant.

“I knew I’d forgotten something” she said, removing the garment from his hand so deftly he barely noticed she’d done it. Then she looked at him with concern. “You okay there?”

Kanan nodded.

“You speak Basic?”

“Words fail me.”

She smiled. “So they do.”

That flash of _something_ is not what changed his life. No. What changed his life was this fiery Twi’lek’s passion and persistence. Over the days that followed, Kanan was more and more certain that he would follow this woman anywhere.

Of course, using the Force in such a brazen manner right in front of her might have also played a role in solidifying their partnership.

Seven more years passed. Kanan’s partnership with Hera turned into a relationship. Of sorts. Hera seemed very clear on what this was. Kanan… less so. But they were both happy. They worked flawlessly as a team, stealing from the Empire and giving to the needy. It was such a dramatic shift from his old life, and Kanan was perfectly fine with that.

And it wasn’t just them. They had rescued a Lasat warrior from the Empire and from himself. Garazeb Orrelios had been bitter and angry, still grieving for the destruction of his people and slowly losing himself to booze and fighting. Kanan could relate.

Then they found a young Mandalorian girl, injured and distrustful. A drop-out from the Imperial Academy, she was sharp and a capable fighter. A deadly combination for a child who had barely hit her teens.

The bonds of friendship, camaraderie, and family grew and strengthened. For the first time in a long time, Kanan felt content.

Then, on one of their many visits to the Outer Rim planet of Lothal, the Force brushed up against him. It wasn’t a warning. It was more like… an old friend. In a strange sort of way, it reminded him of when he first saw Master Billaba floating in that bacta tank.

That was when a cocky streetrat literally dropped in to the middle of their op, trying to swipe the prize from right under their noses. But there was something about this Ezra Bridger… The Force kept insistently nudging at Kanan, telling him to pay attention to this kid. There was just something awfully familiar about him. Like Kanan already _knew_ him.

Honestly, Kanan had already made his mind up on Kessel: He was going to offer to teach Ezra in the ways of the Force. But Ezra didn’t know it yet, which is why he was gazing sadly at the wookiees they had just saved, thinking he was about to be dropped off on Lothal back to his life as a lonely streetrat.

Like Hera would let that happen, even if he _wasn’t_ so obviously Force sensitive.

But there was something else besides the Force nagging at Kanan. That sad expression… It was like he had _seen_ it before. He couldn’t recall where, and it was only the faintest thread of a memory.

But even that was forgotten in the years that followed. His confidence grew, accompanied by a feeling that could only be described as fatherly pride. Not only that, but his affection and admiration for their captain blossomed into unadulterated love and a knowledge that he would do anything for her.

They had their difficulties. Their struggles. His padawan struggled with trusting them, struggled to deal with his anger and fear. His lover - and lovers they were - became more distant as the Rebellion grew. But one way or another, they were always able to prevail. Even when Maul blinded him and tempted his apprentice toward the Dark Side, they endured. No hurdle was too great for them to overcome.

Then something fundamental shifted in the Force. It happened upon their return to Lothal, intent on destroying the TIE Defender factories. The very life-Force of the planet was calling to him. Nudging him. Telling him to paying attention.

 _Dume_.

The Loth wolves, the caves, their mission… him. It was all building up to something important. All the paths were coming together… Kanan just wasn’t sure he liked where they were leading.

_Wanna ride?_

_The Jedi temple is in danger._

_Kanan, you haven't gotten me a present since we first met._

_You can learn what it truly means to be a Jedi._

_You didn't prepare me for this._

_There's something I need to tell you._

_I know I can always count on you._

He could hear the loth wolves whispering to him in the Force. He could hear whispers of the future: a future where he was gone, and his family was grieving. It made his heart ache, but this was bigger than himself. He didn’t know how. He wasn’t even entirely sure _why_. But if this what it took to save his family, to save the planet - maybe even the _galaxy_ \- from a much greater evil…

He would surrender himself to that higher purpose.

Standing on top of that fuel pod, Kanan’s heart was full and soaring as Hera kissed him, as she made a silent promise that they could life as a _family_. Their ride was there. He could sense Sabine and Ezra and their relief as the transport lowered towards them. Ezra, cocky and playful as always, teasing him and Hera for their little public display of affection.

A part of him couldn’t help but think: _Maybe everything is going to be okay._

Then he heard it. The sharp tinny discharge of a walker’s turrets. He instinctively turned toward it. What little hope he had vanished as the laser bolt it its mark. A low rumbling made the fuel pod shake as the fuel ignited, preparing to explode.

Kanan’s resolve tightened as he ran out, flinging his arms out and holding the wall of fire at bay.

“ _KANAN!_ ”

With every ounce of his being, he begged the Force for the strength to keep his family _back_. He turned his head towards them - towards _her_ \- wishing he could see them, wishing he could make them understand…

And then the darkness lifted.

And he saw it: his lover, a woman who pulled him from the depths of his depression, who helped instill new purpose and life into a broken ex-padawan; and his apprentice: a son to him in all but blood, who Kanan had nurtured and watched grow from a distrustful streetrat into a compassionate young man.

He remembered.

“ _I don’t… I don’t understand_ ,” a young Caleb had said.

“ _And yet, I’m confident, child, that someday…_ **_you will_**.”

In a moment of solace, Kanan’s doubts and regrets, hopes and dreams, bitterness and love… it all melted away. There was nothing but the Force.

Kanan Jarrus died.

And Caleb Dume had one final conscious thought:

 _Goodbye_.


End file.
